


Pleasure/Pain

by draculard



Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Clothed Sex, Desk Sex, Ficlet, Hate Sex, M/M, Top Qilori, bottom Thrawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26239474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: The truth is, there’s no better way to beat the Great Presence out of your head than by having wild, exhausting, sweaty sex.
Relationships: Qilori/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	Pleasure/Pain

It’s nothing personal, Qilori tells himself. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that this is way, _way_ too personal, and that things have gotten entirely out of hand.

The truth is, there’s no better way to beat the Great Presence out of your head than by having wild, exhausting, sweaty sex. And it’s not that he _likes_ Thrawn — in fact, Thrawn’s pretty high up on his shitlist and has maintained that position for several years now — it’s just that Thrawn is convenient. He happens to be here. He happens to be willing, and just cocky enough to piss Qilori off and make him hard at the same time, and he's perhaps a little too receptive to attention, and ... well, Qilori doesn't mean to cover old ground here, but Thrawn's pretty much the only warm-blooded sentient in sight.

(Not that Chiss are particularly warm, he thinks as he sinks his cock deep into Thrawn, bending him over the very same helm they both sat at mere moments before. In fact, this sensation is just barely straddling the border of pleasant and hurtful; he feels warm and cold all at once, and it’s impossible for his brain to suss out the conflicting signals. It’s overwhelming, actually. It’s—)

Thrawn raises an eyebrow at him and rolls his hips.

What a little shit.

With a growl, Qilori hooks the arrogant Chiss bastard’s ankles around his hips, drawing the ridiculously weighty Ascendancy uniform aside. He drives himself deeper — harder — with a viciousness and an over-abundance of friction that makes Thrawn tip his head back and bite his lip.

Pain, Qilori hopes. Not pleasure.

But he’s really too far gone to care.


End file.
